


A Careful Diagnosis

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Auror Harry, BDSM, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Play, Healer Draco, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Medical Kink, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Prostate Massage, Role-Playing Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco indulge in a little role play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Careful Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> Originally started for torino10154’s porn Sunday, but well overdue and finished with the fantastic hp_kinkfest in mind.

“I’ve got an idea.”

Harry’s voice is light and breathy, which means his idea is likely to be wonderfully perverted. His eyes shine and he blinks steadily at Draco in the dim light of the room. Breathe, blink, sigh. Lost in his own thoughts, and dreams of being normal. Whatever that means.

“I like your ideas.” Draco catches Harry’s hand and brings it to his lips. 

“This one’s a bit different.” Harry shifts and rolls onto his back. His voice is tremulous and uncertain. There’s a hesitancy which Draco doesn’t often hear from Harry. He’s usually forthright, firm and brimming with confidence. “It’d be nice to be someone else for a while. Don’t you reckon?”

“There’s always Polyjuice,” Draco mutters. He doesn’t want Harry going anywhere near the stuff. Having Harry in his bed is about the only thing he’s got going for him, and the idea of turning Harry into somebody else fills him with dread. He swallows. “Who do you want to be?”

“Shouldn’t the question be who do you want me to be?” Harry’s cheeks flare and he tips his head to the side to study Draco. He narrows his eyes a bit, because he can’t see a thing without his glasses. The gesture scrunches his face up and he looks wounded. 

“Just be yourself, Potter,” Draco snaps. He winces. This is what Potter’s done to him. A few lazy smiles and Draco’s, saying all sorts of things he shouldn’t when he’s caught off guard. 

“Okay, then.” Relieved, Harry turns away again and stares at the ceiling. His voice dips and hums. “I wasn’t thinking Polyjuice.”

“No?” Draco drops Harry’s hand and moves closer. He runs his fingers over Harry’s thigh, and bites back a groan when Harry lazily opens his legs for Draco. He hates being exposed in public, and he’ll do anything to leave a party early so he doesn’t have to be the focus of more attention. When he’s in the bedroom though, Harry is free. He opens himself wide and lets Draco do whatever he wants. Draco presses his ear to Harry’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. Harry steadies him like nobody else can. “What exactly were you thinking?”

Harry’s relaxed. His heart beats with reassuring regularity and constant speed. His voice is light, and bright. His legs remain open for Draco’s questing fingers, and he scratches his stomach absentmindedly. 

Draco’s constantly snappish and cross about things. He always tells Harry off for being too this or too that. He wonders why Harry puts up with him, and he thinks maybe it’s because somehow Harry must hear the things he doesn’t say out loud. 

_Don’t leave me._

Blink, breathe, sigh. 

Harry pushes his glasses onto his nose. “That’s much better. Now I can see you properly.”

“What’s this big idea of yours?” Draco’s curious now. He stops the gentle movement of his fingers over Harry’s body and pinches his skin none too gently. It leaves a red mark and Harry’s breath shudders and falls in a warm huff on Draco’s hair. He likes pain. Draco thought he’d died and gone to the sweetest part of hell when he’d discovered that nugget of information.

“I was thinking we could just pretend to be other people, sometimes.” Harry’s lips curve into a grin. 

“Pretend?” The idea intrigues Draco, because for once he might get to play the hero and have Harry play the fuck-up. “You could be my house-elf.”

“Yuck.” Harry lets out a snort of laughter and presses close to Draco. His cock is thick and heavy against Draco’s thigh, and it fills a little as he rocks closer. “I was thinking we could get out my old uniform. Maybe get you a cane or something.”

“Filthy bastard.” Draco’s heart skips and he imagines putting Harry in detention. He thinks he might enjoy that. Very much.

“You’ll do it?” Harry’s words leave him with a low groan, and he pushes Draco’s hand down to his cock. “Please?”

“Of course.” Draco squeezes hard and smirks against Harry’s lips. “You know I love it when you beg.”

*

 

They start off with the easy things. The kind of characters anyone can play. The sort they don’t need any special toys for. Professor and student. Barman and customer. Wizard and Muggle. 

Their characters don’t last for long beyond the rough sex, when they can finally speak again. In those still moments after the rush of pleasure dissipates, they’re just Harry and Draco. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Auror and Death Eater. 

On occasion Harry likes to pretend he doesn’t want it. Those are the scenes that make Draco the hardest although he refuses to spend too much time dwelling on why he likes fucking Harry when he’s saying no. No never really means no. They have other words for that when they play at being other people. They have words for _slow down_ , words for _stop_ and words for _I love you_. 

Some safe words. 

Others not so safe at all.

*

 

“I’ve thought of something we haven’t done.” Harry steps triumphantly from the fireplace, his movements hurried and inelegant. 

“Is that so?” Draco looks up from the _Prophet_ , his cock stirring. It’s Friday, Harry’s look good enough to eat and the idea of a weekend full of kinky sex sounds all too appealing. “Perhaps I should be a roving reporter, and catch you unawares? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you do all sorts of wicked things to yourself.”

Harry pulls a face. “I might accidentally think of Skeeter.”

Draco grimaces. “True.”

Harry pauses and a light flush rises in his cheeks. Draco leans forward, holding his breath. This is going to be good.

“I was thinking you might like to try your hand at being a Healer.”

“A Healer?” Draco arches his eyebrow at Harry. “I’m going to need to go shopping if that’s the kind of thing you’re after.”

“Then shop.” Harry shrugs and stretches. The motion lifts his tunic to reveal a trail of dark hair leading from his belly button and disappearing into his trousers. Draco licks his lips. “You’re disgustingly rich, or so you keep telling me.”

“I am.” Draco’s lips tug into a smile and he stands, sliding his hands over Harry’s sides. “Are you broken, Potter? Do you need _fixing_?”

“Perhaps.” Harry’s laugh isn’t as light as it usually is, and he kisses Draco. “Or maybe not anymore.”

Draco slowly unbuckles Harry’s belt without commenting. He traces the hot skin of Harry’s stomach and enjoys the way Harry responds with a low growl of pleasure. 

“I won’t be able to shop until tomorrow. Which means we have to decide how to occupy ourselves tonight.” Draco pushes his hand lower, into Harry’s trousers. He squeezes his cock firmly, enjoying the hitch in Harry’s breathing.

“How do you think we’ll decide?” Harry grins against Draco’s skin and presses into the circle of his hand, running his hands over Draco’s body.

“You choose.” Draco clears his throat, almost losing the capacity for speech with Harry this close.

“Like this?” Harry slips onto his knees, and he looks up at Draco. His eyes are bright and green, his pupils wide with arousal. He’s so fucking _strong_. His Auror uniform fits his body perfectly, and he’s gorgeous on his knees. “ _Sir_.” He shifts, parting his legs and placing his hands behind his back.

“Yes.” God, it’s difficult to breathe when Harry does this kind of thing. Draco steadies himself and begins to loosen his belt, noting the way Harry shudders with pleasure and anticipation. “Just like that.”

*

 

“Harry Potter, I presume?” Draco looks up from behind his glasses, and keeps his expression smooth.

“Healer Malfoy.” Harry’s lips twitch, and Draco gives him a look which he hopes says very clearly _don’t fuck this up_. 

“I’m going to need you to strip for me.” Draco turns back to his notes. They’re just doodles of Harry’s name, etched into the parchment. He glares at himself and lets the ink blob and spread onto the page in dark globules and spidery lines. “There’s a gown over there you can use to cover yourself. Hurry up, please. I don’t have all day.”

Harry half looks as if he wants to be cheeky, but in the end he tugs off his clothes without responding. He folds them in a neat pile and slips on the ugly gown, hoisting himself up onto the examination table Draco managed to source.

Draco watches Harry closely, and stands. He takes in every detail of Harry’s body while he pulls on a pair of latex gloves. Wizards don’t need such Muggle accessories, but Harry insisted on the gloves. Kinky bastard. Draco resists the urge to smile gleefully when a noticeable ripple of pleasure passes through Harry’s body as Draco snaps the gloves into place. 

Draco runs his fingers over Harry’s chest and takes in his ragged breathing, with a slow smile. Harry’s cheeks flush in response and Draco brushes his thumb over Harry’s cheek.

“You look a little overheated. I believe I should take your temperature.”

Harry bites back a groan, and nods eagerly. His eyes already cloud with pleasure and he squirms a little on the table. “Oh, you should. It’s very hot in here.” Harry grins up at Draco.

He’s so corny when he’s in character. Draco resists the urge to roll his eyes. Harry and his games will be the death of him, he’s sure of it. He flicks his wand and calls over a small thermometer. He makes a careful show of lubricating the end of it, and then nudges Harry over onto all fours. Without speaking, he slides the thermometer into Harry and is rewarded with a hiss of pleasure. It’s nothing, really. Thinner than Draco’s finger and far smaller than any of the larger toys Harry enjoys. Draco wonders why this elicits such a response. He supposes it’s the nature of being examined, Harry likes. 

“I think there might be a problem…” It kills Draco not to be able to fuck Harry when he’s like this. Of all the routines they’ve played, this one requires a certain amount of patience and clinical detachment. It’s not easy to be detached when Harry’s arsehole is slick and shiny with lubricant, begging to be fucked. Detachment is not something Draco ever feels around Harry, no matter how hard he pretends otherwise.

“A problem?” Harry twists, in a vain attempt to see Draco.

“I have to run some further tests to be sure.” Draco slides the thermometer slowly from Harry’s body and brushes his fingers over Harry’s backside, which clenches beneath his palm. “You might experience some discomfort.”

“Whatever you think is necessary.” Harry’s voice shakes and Draco watches him closely. Harry’s always horny. He’s powerful in his submission. He’s beautiful in his compliance with Draco’s commands. But this is different. Harry’s cock is already hard and leaking at the tip, and his body trembles as if he can’t quite hold himself in place.

It makes Draco even more delighted that he took the time to set this up properly. 

“First, I need to take a closer look.” Draco walks around so he’s in Harry’s eye line, and picks up a slim speculum, allowing Harry to take a look at the device. “Muggles typically use this and I prefer to use such instruments in intimate areas to reduce the risk of magic causing any internal damage.”

“ _Fuck_.” Harry mutters a curse under his breath, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Draco. He presses his backside up a little and parts his legs further. Draco smiles and moves back to Harry’s backside. With a flick of his wand, he shuts padded shackles over Harry’s ankles and wrists, effectively trapping him in place.

“It’s better if you can try to limit your movements during the examination.” Draco gently warms the end of the speculum with a spell, and then lubricates the end. 

“What’s that for?” Harry tries to twist around again to no avail.

“Don’t worry, Mr Potter.” Draco smirks and gives the handles of the speculum an experimental squeeze. Biting back a groan he slides the bills inside Harry, drawing another hiss of pleasure. Harry has always enjoyed being filled with whatever toys Draco can purchase. He loves being stretched open, and they often talk about fisting when they lie together in bed, kissing one another and lazily stroking each other to orgasm while they make filthy plans for the future. One day, Draco’s determined to try it. But it won’t be when they’re in character – it will be when Harry can look into his eyes and shout Draco’s name, and only Draco’s.

This is different to the larger toys Harry gravitates towards on occasion. This clinical, methodical stretching is something Draco isn’t used to and he knows he has to take it steady with Harry. He opens the speculum slowly, pushing as far as he feels comfortable with. He slides the bar into place and it stays open, giving him the perfect view of Harry’s arse – lubricated and stretched.

“Fuck…I can’t…” Harry pants and tries to drop down, to get some friction against his cock no doubt. The bindings keep him in place, and he’s left shifting awkwardly and swaying in place.

“You’re so exposed…” Draco brushes his gloved fingers down Harry’s spine. “I think I can see the problem.”

“You can?” Harry’s voice comes out in a rush, his arousal evident from his ragged pants of breath.

“Do you masturbate, Harry?”

“Do I _what_?” Harry splutters.

Draco can almost hear the deep blush rising from Harry’s neck to his cheeks, and it’s delightful.

“Do you _masturbate_?”

“I…” Harry swallows thickly and he shifts and twists in his position, the speculum still keeping him open wide. “I…yes I do.”

“I see.” Draco smiles and he slowly unlocks the speculum, allowing it to close and sliding it out of Harry. “You are aware that by doing so, you have caused your body to expect regular release? I’m afraid there is no alternative but to try to relieve your discomfort as best I can.”

“Oh, I’m not sure you’re going to know what to do to make me more comfortable,” Harry mutters. 

Draco laughs and slides his gloved fingers between Harry’s slick arse cheeks, luxuriating in the way Harry is still stretched and ready for fucking. “You forget I am a trained professional.”

“A pretty dodgy one.” Harry’s voice carries a hint of teasing. “Are Healers supposed to touch their patients like this?”

“I can assure you, it’s perfectly standard practice.” Draco rubs the pads of his fingers against Harry and then pushes his fingers deep inside him. Harry responds as he often does to this kind of touch, with his back arching and a muttered curse falling from his lips.

Years of practice help Draco know exactly where to touch Harry. He rubs his fingers inside him with a slow massage, applying just the right amount of pressure. The way Harry rocks and whines under his touch makes Draco want to push his hand into his trousers and bring himself to a desperate completion. He resists the urge and focuses on Harry.

With careful precision he pushes Harry to the edge, and then reduces the pressure on his prostate simply fucking him steadily with his fingers. Harry’s pants and gasps of pleasure and cries of more nearly tip Draco over the edge. Eventually he presses against Harry’s most sensitive spot and rubs firmly until Harry comes with a shout, his cock untouched.

Draco flicks his wand to release the bindings. “Very well. That will be all. I suggest you clean yourself up and change. I will see you briefly before you leave and we can arrange another appointment.”

“Right now?” Harry turns to face Draco. His cheeks are flushed and his paper gown damp with come. His brow furrows. “You want me to change now?”

It takes all the strength Draco has not to push Harry over the table and fuck him there and then. Instead, he gives a dismissive wave and nods. “Yes. I have another appointment in ten minutes.”

Draco watched Harry trudge off somewhat despondently, and hears him muttering something about Slytherins to himself.

“You said I need another appointment?” Harry finally emerges and sits with a huff, raising his eyebrows at Draco.

“Yes. We need to arrange your enema.” Draco looks down at his doodles, and makes a show of pushing his glasses to the end of his nose as if he’s studying notes. If he was studying notes, they would be notes setting out more delightfully humiliating ways to make Harry come in his pants.

“What makes you think I need one of those?” Harry stares at Draco, his eyes wide.

“You don’t believe you do?” Draco looks up, Harry flushes and his shoulders lift and drop in a shrug. His mouth twitches with amusement.

“Well, you’re the Healer. I trust you to know what’s right for me.”

“Indeed.” Draco puts down his quill. “Next Friday. Same time.” He folds his hands on the table. “Now, there is the small matter of payment.”

Harry grins, before smoothing his expression in a vain attempt to look shocked. “Payment? But Healer Malfoy, you know I don’t have any money.”

Draco smirks and shifts back from his desk, unbuckling his belt and placing his glasses on the desk. “Then we will have to make other arrangements won’t we?”

Harry stands and drops to his knees, his hands sliding over Draco’s thighs with one, eager heartbeat.

“Yes. I suppose we will.”

~Fin~


End file.
